Unfinished Symphony (Logan 3)

I knew he just wanted me to go home to him, although what he was saying was not untrue.

"That's just it, Cary. I did see the picture and I did find her and I know she needs me. One day she's going to find herself all alone here. Once Richard decides he can't get anything more out of her, he'll leave her stranded."

"She should have thought of that herself. You don't belong there," he insisted. "They're criminals, sending a stranger's body to be buried as if it were your mother's. Grandma Olivia's going to be furious."

"Maybe you shouldn't tell her anything just yet." "What do I do when she asks, lie? Is that what you're learning how to do out in L.A.?"

"No."

"Your mother's a good teacher," he muttered. "We both know that."

"Look Cary, no matter what she's done, she's still my mother. You'd feel the same way."

"No, I wouldn't," he said quietly and I could hear the sadness in his voice.

"How's your father doing?" I asked.

"There's been no change. He's still in the cardiac care unit in the hospital. It was raining here this morning, a small storm, so we didn't go out in the boat. I'm depending on the cranberry crop to get us through the year anyway," he added. "There's going to be a lot of work to do soon."

"Maybe I can come back to help," I suggested. "And then what, return to L.A.?"

"I just don't know, Cary."

"You probably like it out there. Hollywood," he spat. "It's a lot more glamorous than living in an old house and harvesting cranberries. I don't blame you," he said in a tired voice. "I wish I could run away from my responsibilities, too."

"I'm not running away from my responsibilities, Cary Logan. I'm running toward them. I'm trying to help my mother," I said firmly, determined to make him understand.

"Right. Well, you know where I'll be. Give me a call sometime, if you have time," he said, not disguising his frustration and anger.

"Oh, Cary, you know I'll call."

"I gotta get back to the hospital," he said. "I left Ma up there with May. Bye."

"Cary."

The phone went dead. I held the receiver in my hand a moment and then put it back on the cradle, my heart feeling like cold stone. Cary didn't do well with sadness and hardship. He turned inside himself and bitterly closed up like a clam. It was the way I had found him when I had been left there to live with Uncle Jacob and Aunt Sara, and it had taken a while to get him to say two friendly words to me. I felt just horrible not being there at his side when he needed me so much.

But when I gazed around this small apartment and thought about Mommy completely under Richard's control, I knew I had to stay. I had to try. It was times like this I wished there were two of me. I would send my other self back to Provincetown. I should have been the one to have a twin, not Cary, I thought.

A rich peal of laughter came flowing up from under the patio. I went out and listened. Two young women were walking down the path toward the pool. They were both in bikinis, even skimpier than the one I was wearing.

I do need a break, I thought, just a small intermission from all these troublesome thoughts. Just for a little while, I'll pretend to be one of them. My only fear was that whatever madness drove them would be contagious and what Cary suggested would come true. I'd find it was easier to just run away into my dreams and fantasies, and like everyone else here, not worry if they had any reasonable relationship to the truth.

Despite that fear, I searched for and found a beach towel at the bottom of the closet and a pair of sandals. I scooped up Mommy's coffee-stained and cigarette-burned terry cloth robe and slipped it over myself. Then I headed down to the pool, telling myself it was just for a little while. No harm done. Right?

"This is Melody Simon," Mel Jensen told the stout, light-brown-haired man on the lounge beside him. "Melody, meet Bobby Dee," Mel said.

"Greetings," Bobby Dee muttered. He held the sun reflector under his chin and glanced at me quickly.

"Bobby's the drummer for the Gross Me Outs, a rock band who cut their first single last week."

"Oh. Congratulations," I said. Bobby Dee grunted. Mel pulled up a lounge chair so I could be beside him. Across the pool Sandy and two of her friends were sunning themselves, surrounded by two other young men. Everyone looked at me when I took off Mommy's robe and laid it neatly on the lounge. Mel's smile widened.

"You better put on some suntan lotion," he suggested. "You're a bit pale in places that have obviously not seen the sun in a while." He handed me his bottle of lotion.

"Thank you," I said and rubbed some lotion over my legs and arms.

"I can get your back for you," he volunteered.